


Parallels

by Bonyspark



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Parallel Universes, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 15:47:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10030010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bonyspark/pseuds/Bonyspark
Summary: No matter where or when in the spacetime continuum, Arin and Dan always seem to find each other. A collection of short stories that take place in various parallel universes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> In a 2008 New York not too different from our own, burgeoning artist Arin Hanson meets by happenstance a chilled out rocker who wants to take him home.

Arin drummed his fingers against the oak table, hoping his restless fidgets weren’t too noticed by the strangers milling around him. They all looked older than him; almost everyone in the vaulted room did, if his own paranoia was anything to go by. If that nagging part of Arin’s brain was any louder, he’d have blurted out the wrong drink name to the cute bartender or taken just a little too long handing over his license. He read young, because he was.

He felt singled out, due to the fact that he came completely alone for whatever fucking reason. He had no idea what he was expecting by camping out in the corner booth of a hole-in-the-wall bar (that was trying way too hard if its wall of refurbished vinyl records and terrible maroon upholstery was anything to go by), nursing a Jack and Coke in small sips that still made his eyes water and his nose sting.

Maybe, he thought to himself as another band took the small stage and did a brief sound check, this was a trip to get away. To take a break from the endless piles of monotonous work waiting for him back at the studio, a generous term for the converted half of his bedroom that consisted of a reasonably expensive tablet and a table permanently stained circular with the residue of hastily drunk Red Bull cans. The strain of 18 hour workdays had chased after him for the entirety of his move to New York, pushed away by the gleaming protection of youth, his only defense against the toll of the big city.

Maybe he would get laid.

_ That’d be a huge stress reliever, _ he thought, both ironically and not. His cynical side reminded him of his debilitating social shyness, and even its optimistic counterpart was having trouble in its scan of the room to find anyone desperate enough to give him a second glance. He knew it was just remnants of his old high school insecurity flaring up, but in a huge city, everyone was goddamn gorgeous, and that fact really wasn’t helping a pale and buzzed Arin Hanson believe he wasn’t the least attractive person in a 10 block radius.

After ten minutes and two more drinks worth of letting the singer’s floaty voice drift around his head, he decided to tap out and walk home. Maybe he could lament his busted evening over pizza and a round of Smash with his equally insomniatic roommate.

The walk to the bar shouldn’t have been an ordeal, just a few dozen steps and maybe some weaving through the cliques of drunken people spread over the makeshift dance floor. If luck was on his side that night, he’d be relaxing in bed with a chick instead of gingerly pushing them aside.

But it seemed every invisible force was conspiring against him as he watched a young woman in a short red dress wobble dangerously after an adventurous spin, cocktail glass tumbling from her fingers in terrible slow motion. He felt the cold splash against his stomach, a deep red stain soaking into his shirt, the only dressy one he currently owned. He couldn’t stifle his immediate reaction.

“Fuck!”

The girl looked contrite, or as much of the feeling she could muster through her wavering consciousness. She flung her arms over Arin’s torso, still teeter-tottering.

“I’m so sorry!” She flapped her hands around the splotch in an approximation of a handheld fan, the action somehow making everything worse by disturbing those standing around, some who had even turned to gawk at the accident. Arin shook his head, too embarrassed to accost her. He had to get out of there.

Power walking towards the main entrance, he almost bulldozed the ring of people surrounding the door before throwing himself into the nighttime. The blessed chilly winter air cooled his skin, and he thanked the weather gods again for their disparity between the northern and southern hemispheres.

He ran a hand through his recently cut hair, worsening his appearance and probably making him look like a bum. He pushed his fingers against his eyes to trap the orange glow of the streetlights and sighed deep, psyching himself up for the hour walk home. It was shaping up to be a trek filled with made up conversations and resolutions to never go outside again.

“You okay, man?” Arin shot his head up to meet the drawling tone from his left. The guy leaning against the side of the empty green bench looked at first glance… less than reputable. His jeans were ripped to shreds, his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of a worn brown jacket. He leaned his head back to tip the ends of his short shaggy brown hair out of his face, a habit Arin was all too familiar with doing even after he’d had his own sheared off.

“Not really.” Arin shot out without thinking, tacking on a loud nervous laugh afterwards to try and twist it into a joke.

“You look like you’re struggling, bro.” The man offered a smile, but Arin didn’t know if he could trust this stranger’s hooded eyes and lazy way of speaking. He knew where the druggies hung out in high school, where they sat at lunch and kept to themselves. He never interacted with them, and his knowledge of drugs as a result was sorely lacking. For all he knew, this guy was a step away from making Arin a headline in tomorrow’s paper.

“It’s just been a shitty night, you know?” He had no clue what prompted him to continue, but the gripe was out of his mouth before he could stop it. 

“I get it. We all have those.” His voice was familiar, and Arin puzzled about it in a silence that might have lasted a few seconds too long. It hit him fast, and he was temporarily taken back to his earlier haze.

“You sang here tonight!” His revelation came a little too loudly and with a pointed index finger, the alcohol finally catching up to his volume control. The man laughed, a melodic and rhythmic sound that came out almost as nice as his singing did.

“Yeah I did. I’m Danny.” He extended his hand and Arin reciprocated, trying not to think about how soft his new acquaintance’s hands were. The dry spell had to have been what was clouding his judgement and getting him to focus on things like that. He also blamed it for lodging a slew of filthy thoughts in his brain, like what sound his new friend Dan’s belt would make when he unbuckled it.

_ Jesus, man! You met him five seconds ago! _ Arin brushed off his conscience and let the booze boost his confidence, purposely telling himself to forget his lack of experience with men for a brief second.

“I’m Arin.” He stood up straighter and smoothed his shirt, cringing when his hand ran over the stain.

Dan nodded and zipped up his jacket, patting his pockets one by one.

“How do you like New York so far?” The question took Arin off guard, and he fumbled for a response, however indignant.

“You think I don’t live here?” He shot back, his beaten pride rising in him against all odds.

“Anyone living here would probably bring a jacket to a bar in January.” His tone was still untroubled, and although he looked more teasing than anything, Arin still tried to suppress a blush at being called out.

“Yeah, I’m from Florida.” He wanted nothing more than to slink away now, tail between his legs. Dan’s eyebrows raised in genuine interest, keeping him mysteriously tethered.

“Don’t go there it sucks.” Arin added on in a mumble, earning another one of Dan’s laughs. It was beautiful even if had no idea why he was the one who deserved it hear it.

“Well, Arin from Florida, I don’t have anything going on for the rest of tonight, if you wanted to come back to my place and smoke or something?” Dan said this ridiculous proposal so matter of factly, Arin almost didn’t register any of it.

Internally, his red alert system began to blare loud and clear, every hamfisted PSA from childhood flooding back to him in a blaze of ‘run away and tell an adult!’ A strange man on the street was offering him drugs.

The weirdest part was: he kinda wanted to say yes. He wanted to accept and go to this guy’s home and live dangerously, although now he could see nothing about Dan suggested any real risk. For once in his life, he had the clear and present chance to do something almost wild and careless, that being going home with a random guy and not wrestling with a swamp alligator like his younger self might have predicted.

His palms dampened and he tried to wipe them discreetly on his jeans and put on a casual facade, struggling to mimic the blas é attitude most New Yorkers seemed to adopt as second nature.

“Sure, man.” Two words, a slight upwards nod of his head, and his fate was sealed. Dan grinned, and Arin let the image of his brilliant teeth linger.

The ride to Dan’s place was no less surreal: Dan would regale Arin with a ridiculous story about the hijinks and mischief his friends and him had recently gotten into, and Arin would stifle a bout of giggles in his sleeve or palm. As if that didn’t make him seem like a teenage girl.

During a lull, he leaned his head against the window of the cab, steady breath ghosting up his view of the passing neon club signs and trash filled Manhattan gutters. He was still struck by the fact that of the millions of people living there, he knew none of them. A year ago, he might have thought that terrifying, but now, it was freeing. The curtain anonymity provided was exciting: there were no worries that his words or actions would come back to him in the form of gossip and judgement. He could be risky and ridiculous, go home with a stranger, and know at the end of the night, the tiniest fraction of the population would know, and an even smaller percentage would care. Now that he had taken one huge step in a reckless direction, he was left to ponder what the next would be.

Maybe he could become a stripper. He chuckled at the thought of himself in stilettos and flopped his head sideways to stare at Dan some more. This time he followed the curve of the man’s jaw down to his collarbone, all sharp angles and smooth skin. If he could slow his brain down to focus on one thing at a time, he might have been able to form a coherent thought about beauty and perspective, but it stood to reason he had no business critically thinking with so much booze in his veins. All he could do was sit and take in Dan nodding his head in time to the beat of the rock ballad streaming from the radio, hand absently patting his leg. Arin itched to draw him.

~

Arin leaned one hand against the chipped wood of the apartment door as he struggled to remove each shoe from his sneakered feet. He pushed them into the nearby mat, then caught himself mid sigh in hopes Dan didn’t see his flounder. Thankfully the man was already 10 steps ahead, and Arin seized the opportunity to take a quick appraisal of his surroundings, as well as a very deep breath.

Despite the shabby exterior of the apartment building, and that when Arin was being led through it he caught sight of what had to be 40 health code violations, the inside of Dan’s 700 square foot digs was markedly cozy and coherent.

The beige paint on the wall of the living room peeked out from behind large band posters depicting famous and obscure rockers alike. There was Nirvana, Jimi Hendrix, Freddie Mercury and a ton of androgynous men Arin couldn’t put a name to. On Ikea shelves was signed memorabilia and a few tacky knick knacks that would probably be more at home in a tourist trap than a singer’s bachelor pad. There was also an amount of football jerseys numbering too great for a stick like Dan to have had played himself.

Arin let everything soak in, and decided it was cluttered in the best way possible. He only had his own experience with the empty blank slate of his own studio, but he would consider his life significantly improved if he could get his apartment to look as lived in as Dan’s.

As Arin snapped out of his introspection, he shifted his focus to where Dan was bending over to rummage through a drawer in the corner. He turned to Arin and raised an eyebrow, spooking him into thinking he missed a whole conversation while lost in his own head.

“What?” He sounded dumb. Felt it too.

Dan chuckled, padding over to the oversized leather couch. He placed with care a small wooden box on the coffee table and looked to Arin.

“I have a hunch you don’t do this often.” He was smirking, voice so casual, Arin almost mistook it for condescension. A small flush of indignation pushed him into a remark.

“What? Go to a stranger’s house? Or smoke weed with him after going to said house?” The feeling of power from unleashing that sharp stab of sass fizzled quickly when Dan straightened and fully turned to him. Arin could feel his lower back begin to sweat as the room steeped in silence. When Dan spoke, it was dry.

“This isn’t a house, dude.”

He whispered the next line.

“It’s an apartment.”

Arin nearly choked. Dan broke into his most amused laugh of the night, an eyebrows furrowed, nose crinkled, left hand on stomach kind of action which made Arin’s ears burn. He ran a hand to the back of his neck, thankful the statement actually did break the tension, and he hazarded the few short steps to swivel around and place himself into the armchair beside the couch.

Dan fell back, jacket already shed,  melting into a languid stretch in which each of his long limbs traveled slowly to fill up every one of the worn couch’s recesses. Arin noticed how slim Dan appeared without the bulk of fabric enveloping him. His raised arms pulled the end of his band t-shirt upwards, showcasing a long strip of flat skin overtaken only by the line of what one could only assume to be his boxers peeking over the waistband of his ratty pants. Arin gawked without thinking, noticing too late that Dan had caught him looking.

“Like what you see?” Dan smiled easily, that which should have been cheesy and aloof said seriously. He was the picture of tranquility: no blush, no hesitation, no regret. Arin was trying to hide every part of himself at once, doubtful that this demeanor was entirely the weed’s fault. Guys like Dan were naturally charismatic. And good at seducing 21 year olds, apparently.

Presented with this, in combination with the already surreal atmosphere, Arin’s brain short circuited, prompting him to bury his face into his hands out of sheer awkwardness and lack of options that he didn’t have the charm to pull off anyway. It made Dan laugh, so, he guessed it wasn’t all that bad of a move.

“You don’t have to do anything.” Dan was staring upwards, with the same look he wore outside in the cold a half hour ago.

“What does  _ that _ mean?” Arin didn’t think getting deep this late was that good of an idea.

Dan shimmed upward to support himself on his palms. The outside light that seeped in from the window behind Arin’s head illuminated the features on his tilted head in a very aesthetically pleasing way. Slightly buzzed and now horny - both physically and in his sense as an artist - Arin considered him the most beautiful man he had ever seen. Better than the guys on old anime roleplays forums that he used to have clumsy cybersex with as a young teen, and much better than the few disastrous tinder dates he had gone on just a few weeks ago.

“We can smoke, eat pizza and watch Breaking Bad, talk about the universe, jerk off together…” Dan trailed off, all hazel eyes and a sly smirk.

Arin knew it was a joke. But that didn’t stop his hands from warming and his throat from drying out. He swallowed hard, images of lean fingers and deep groans pulling at his stomach. Flustered and a step away from stuttering like a teenager, he tried to hold on to any semblance of humor in a last ditch attempt at self preservation.

“Uh, all of the above please.” He raised his eyebrows high for effect, reassuring himself that he was just returning the joke. Dan laughed and sat up further, leaning forward to snatch the TV remote from the table. Before he could switch the channel from the evening news, he looked at Arin and jerked his head towards the couch.

“Get over here.” Despite his soft tone, Arin jumped. Dan hid a smile in his hand.

~

The late night talk show was long forgotten, faded into the background in favor of Dan asking Arin about his career and Arin trying to respond in a level fashion while it dawned on him what Dan’s long fingers were actually doing. Before he could finish expounding on the merits of animation in the up-and-coming internet market, the telltale rush of doing something illegal whizzed up his back and made him scratch at his neck. It seemed so foreign, and he hadn’t felt it since he was cross legged, staring at the makeshift fire his friends had lit up in the freezing emptiness of an abandoned warehouse so many years ago. He was caught up in his flashback, and only Dan’s chuckle brought him back, along with the click of a bright blue lighter.

“You don’t have to look so shocked, baby.”

Okay, now Dan was  _ trying _ to make him blush. And succeeding, if Arin’s sudden interest in the frayed carpet fibers beneath his feet was anything to go by. He dug the ball of his left foot against them, twisting his sock, deciding that giving himself friction burn, or doing anything, was preferable to meeting Dan’s eyes.

“I shouldn’t be. You even said it earlier. And I fuckin’ nodded along, so I don’t blame you.” Arin cursed himself for babbling.

“What, they don’t have dank kush in gatorland?” Dan had already taken a hit, and leaned back to rest his elbow on the spine of the couch. His free hand mussed his hair, tangling and freeing itself in succession. Each soft brown curl seemed to have its own will, and it was mesmerizing to watch every piece slide between Dan’s fingers.

“They do. I just…” He trailed off, fixated on Dan’s movements. His eyes wandered up and down Arin’s face, but Arin couldn’t imagine himself calling Dan out on it. He at least had enough humor left in him to throw out an exaggerated wink, which made Dan chuckle, slow and soft.

“You’re really cute, you know that?” He punctuated the statement by blowing a gray whirlwind into the still air of his apartment. All the outside distractions of the city were muted, every car honk and police siren put on hold for one sweet moment.

Arin would never be able to describe to anyone what force had pushed him forward, had shoved him closer, all he knew he could feel was the unimaginable desire to press their mouths together.

He tasted like smoke and candy. If he wasn’t falling before, Arin was now tumbling into Dan’s senses, trying to envelop himself in all this stranger stood for. After an initial surprised noise, Dan hummed and leaned into the kiss. The warm slide of their lips against each other’s warmed Arin’s stomach, and he stopped himself from jumping when a hand firmly gripped his shoulder. Emboldened by this enthusiasm, he felt his confidence being resurrected.

“You do this often? Take a guy home and end up like this?” He breathed onto Dan’s lips between kisses, opening his eyes just long enough to catch how soft Dan’s still were, although he couldn’t see much of that endearing brown in them anymore. Dan started to reply, but Arin cut him off by molding himself to his form again.

Arin tried to think of his endgame as Dan squeezed his hip, fully turned towards him. He wasn’t prepared in any way to have actual sex, but he knew for goddamn sure that he wasn’t leaving this place without making this guy fall apart at least once. The vivid mental image that came to him made him smile against the smooth plane of Dan’s jawline, which he had begun to pepper with kisses. He pushed his hand flat against Dan’s chest, holding him in place while he slipped off the couch.

Before either of them could break the silence, Arin was fully settled between his legs, knees rubbing harsh on the carpet, arms resting against the length of Dan’s slim thighs. He thanked profusely whatever sex demon had possessed him at that moment that his hands didn’t tremble when he reached for Dan’s belt buckle. The clicking of metal combined with his own breathing made him aware of how loud he suddenly found everything, feel how dry his throat was.

A sober Arin would over analyze every part of this situation and agonize over each deliberate move, but cloudy-headed Arin only thought about how totally sweet the idea of blowing Dan was. The anticipation alone had him moving his hips forward, trying to gain any friction he could against the tough denim fabric of his jeans. He thought to consider, only after letting out a small groan, Dan’s current reaction, and looked upwards, apprehensive.

Arin couldn’t help but feel smug that he was the cause of Dan’s parted lips and flustered face. His eyes were as indecipherable as ever, holding an expression Arin chose to label for his own sanity as pleading. It was jarring when he finally spoke, his voice cutting the thick atmosphere between them.

“You don’t have to do this, if you don’t want to.” If Arin wasn’t anticipating it, he might have missed the fact that anything was said at. He was offering an out, an easy escape route for Arin to take and announce that he had indeed made a mistake by coming here and wanting to have sex. Arin could walk out right that second, go back to his empty apartment, fall asleep and forget this interaction ever happened. If he wanted to.

With the knowledge that Dan had the goodwill to even extend that option, if it wasn’t before, Arin’s determination was solidified.

“I want to.” He surprised himself with how serious he sounded, but it seemed to placate Dan, who had leaned back and slid one arm behind his head in quiet acceptance. Now that Arin was aware of his lucidity due to their brief, but meaningful, exchange, he could feel a knot of arousal and performance anxiety ride up his stomach. He pushed on, rubbing slow circles into Dan’s jeans.

Dan, in the middle of a drag, lifted his hips to help Arin tug his jeans to the middle of his thighs. His semi-hard cock was definitively outlined in his plain boxers, and Arin was so fixated he didn’t hear Dan chuckle above him. Trying to not betray his excitement, Arin pulled the thin cloth downwards and wrapped a hand around Dan’s erection.

Arin felt like he was having a transcendental experience, and he wasn’t even the person in the room doing drugs. Sure, he’d had plenty of practice with his own, but this was entirely different: it was attached to another human being, with feelings and emotions.

He cut his raging internal monologue short when he realized he had simply been grasping the base of Dan’s dick for a weirdly long time. He took in the weight and heat of it, absently squeezing. Dan twitched, starting a rueful hum behind his smirk. Arin felt a buzz kick up in his body, one that came from the heady feeling of holding power over someone else. Without hesitating, he leaned forward to press the flat of his tongue against the head of Dan’s cock.

Dan let out a luxurious groan, spurring Arin to run his tongue in slow swirls. He tried to play off of what he would want for himself, starting a slow rhythm with his hand. Dan’s small noises of encouragement were intoxicating, and Arin felt his self-consciousness start to slip away as he was emboldened to seek out more.

He covered his teeth with his lips and took Dan further into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks out like he’d seen people do in porn. His head was fuzzy and empty save for the heavy fog of arousal driving his motions, and the small part that told him his knees would be busted to hell by the next day.

Arin moved faster, or at least with his limited practice tried to, an orchestra of lewd sounds filling the air around them. He couldn’t help drooling, thick lines of spit making Dan’s cock shiny and easy to jerk off as haphazardly as he was. His face was crimson, his shirt stuck to his back with sweat, and he wondered when the room became so stuffy. 

Occasionally he’d dart his eyes, now almost black, upwards to gauge Dan’s reactions. This almost-stranger, head lolled back and face bunched in concentration, liked when Arin picked up his pace, and really liked it when he sank down as deep as he could, the tight heat of his mouth squeezing the life out of him. His hand slipped over Arin’s hair, resting gently on the top of his head. Arin wondered if that was a subtle way to let him know how close he was, and started to run through a panicked flowchart in his head.

_ Okay, I’ve never swallowed come before. Well, I don’t think my own counts, and that was gross anyway. Is this gonna be gross? Shit, what if I puke? What if I vom all over this guy’s dick? _

Dan began to slightly raise his hips in time with Arin. He did speak up after a while, his beautiful voice rough and shaky to vocalize that he was close. Arin moved his hand irresponsibly fast, bracing his nerves. Dan’s legs shook and his back bowed forward as he came, and Arin swallowed without hesitation for fear of any reaction from his body. When he finally sat up straight, he couldn’t help laugh.

They were both sights for sore eyes, with Dan a mess of limbs on the couch with a rucked up shirt and his dick resting against his stomach, and Arin a disheveled mess with pink cheeks and swollen lips. Dan caught on and laughed too, tipping his head back and catching the light again. When he looked back at Arin, he was already trying to pull him up by his arms. In his post-blowjob daze, Arin let himself be manipulated into a sitting position on the couch.

Dan was quick to pop open his jeans and start jerking Arin off, ratcheting his pace up so quickly that Arin let out a shocked noise. He was so keyed up from having no stimulation for so long that he was embarrassingly close already, but Dan didn’t seem to care, his deep brown eyes lidded and running their way up Arin’s face. If he seemed shy before, it was gone now as he leaned in, his soft exhales grounding. Arin held his breath as every muscle tensed and he finished with almost a wail, come starting to slide down Dan’s knuckles. 

If he were any other version of himself, he’d be an awkward apologizing mess, but he couldn’t really bring himself to be contrite in his afterglow. The two of them did try to straighten themselves out, realizing it was futile not long into their efforts. They both paused, waiting for the other to say something.

“I guess,” Dan, still croaky, ran his clean hand through his hair, “we contemplate the universe now.”

Arin nodded. 

“Dick so mind blowing you question why we’re here.” They laughed themselves silly at the stupid voice he said it with. Sitting together in the early morning darkness, Arin felt at peace.

~

It was so bright outside, and Arin felt so hungover that he considered just fucking off for the whole day, pushing work to Monday and making his future self hate him even more. As he tried not to think, because it hurt way too much to do that, he rolled over and tangled himself up in his own sheets, making a mental reminder to thank his friend for suggesting the darker kind of bedroom curtains.

When it was tolerable to move, he felt around his bedside table for his shitty phone. He had a few texts, one from a number he didn’t recognize.

_ You didn’t even give me a chance to give you my band’s album last night ;) _

Arin buried his face into his pillow, smiling like a Florida-transplanted-into-New York-idiot.

**Author's Note:**

> <3 i hope you enjoyed reading!!


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